Текст песни KV - hello bitches

A lot of thoughts in my head, like smog in a metropolis;
And here I am again conducting monologues with a bare wall.
From this pretentious syllable it is not much easier to get a sense,
than an ordinary needle to isolate from a haystack.
My stanzas sow a seed in your field of disaster
Weed grasses are ripening.
What the fuck hasl, promotion to the masses?
The author will take the entire cash register for the suction.
I'm mean and rude. There is something against - you will rest under a layer of soil, shrouded in ash.
The passage was bought by yours, but my verse cannot be bought with expensive currency.
My face is not destined to behold under the dome.
Your empty towers will be cut down with a scythe.
The dirty flow will make you writhe
My voice will lead you out of the stupor from the mouthpiece (fagot).
Snickerowski and The Author, press pause,
Not men, not women, survived menopause.

Buried under a layer of soil. Bro, appreciate my brutal style.
This is a wild pack. I am one of the hundred who live in the basement.
In your fucking we will pile this smoke.
My flow is mud and your ears are made of steel;
Your hearing won't improve from this feed.
The underground is a mixture of factories and concrete
Your groans to the beat will drown in this pain.
In the head with a thunder will endure even without a word,
Our dirty track will be taken as the standard of the syllable.
To the author, along the way, this battle is not on the rise,
With us is a fight, that audacity, standing under Stalin.
What the hell is promotion to the masses?
So already fuck the pretentious Haslers.
As an example, we will give Velts Denis:
The image has chosen a capricious fagot.